“Now that I am ninety-five years old, looking back over the years, I have seen many changes taking place, so many inventions have been made. Things now go faster. In olden times things were not so rushed. I think people were more content, more satisfied with life than they are today. You don’t hear nearly as much laughter and shouting as you did in my day, and what was fun for us wouldn’t be fun now.... In this age I don’t think people are as happy, they are worried. They’re too anxious to get ahead of their neighbors, they are striving and striving to get something better. I do think in a way that they have too much now. We did with much less.”
“What a strange thing is memory, and hope; one looks backward, the other forward; one is of today, the other of tomorrow. Memory is history recorded in our brain, memory is a painter, it paints pictures of the past and of the day.”
“I have written my life in small sketches, a little today, a little yesterday . . . I look back on my life a good day's work, it was done and I feel satisfied with it. I made the best out of what life offered.”
“. . . daydreams, as it were . . . I look out the window sometimes to seek the color of the shadows and the different greens in the trees, but when I get ready to paint I just close my eyes and imagine a scene.”